Changes
by Link Worshiper
Summary: Heero's doing it again, being hypocritical with his emotions and his advice. He's sure that securing Duo with a job and a real life, even if it means they can't be together, is what Duo needs. Too bad he realizes he was all too wrong all too late. 1x2x1
1. Down The Rabbit Hole

~* **C**hanges

By Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper

****

() The Author's Customary Blah () Since I am a music dork who is constantly wired for sound, it is my duty to listen to songs and get inspired. Therefore, you get this strange little beauty, a side-story type thing for my last big ass story, _Coming Through the Rye._ I think it would probably be in the reader's best interest to have read that before this, though I guess it's not absolutely _mandatory_. Same sort of warnings apply: 1x2 (yaoi, people, _yaoi_), cussing galore, angst, an uber-fucked Heero, plus some self-mutilation/suicide attempts in this one. Anyway, the song, _Changes_, belongs to the wonderful 3 Doors Down and Gundam is that of the usual gang (Sunrise, Bandai, et cetera, et cetera). Enjoy and _don't forget to review_! I know where you live! Grr!

(o) _Session I _(o)

()() _Down the Rabbit Hole _()()

__

{I'm not supposed to be scared of anything,  
But I don't know where I am.}

As I climbed the narrow rickety back staircase of the old school's dormitories, I could not help but ask myself why I had bothered to do this in the first place. It was not like I needed the education—most of what they had to teach here I had probably already learned at some point in my life and whatever they were to teach on the war would either be more than I need to hear or would be just plain ignorant and biased. As for my social life, well fuck, what the hell social life do I have? I knew I did not need any of that shit in the near future. But if that were so, if I did not want to learn and I wanted to get away from people, why did I bother coming back to school? I'm too screwed up for even _myself_ to understand sometimes. 

None of the other boys seemed to get it, not even Duo. I think I was just confused and needed time to figure out what the hell breed of misfit I really was. Duo was sad, but seemed to accept my decision with much reluctance. I wrote it off at the time saying that he wasn't someone who could see the big picture and that in the long run, this would be better for both of us. Trowa had seemed outright pissed off with me for my choice. I guess I deserved that punch he laid on my jaw right before I disappeared again. I haven't seen his face since. I think Quatre was of the same opinion as Trowa, though he took it better than his lover did, just shaking his head sadly at me and wishing me luck. Wufei got it the best out of the four of them, I think. I got a nod and an order to 'do what I needed' before he went off to join up with Preventers.

Then again, this is coming from the man who has made perhaps just one too many mistakes. For someone who always preached following emotions, I sure had trouble following through. Fucking hypocrite, that's what I am. You're an idiot, Duo, I had always said, when look at fucking _me_. I'm the real idiot. What the hell had I been thinking when I said he should go and get a job with Hilde? Obviously, I hadn't been thinking at all. I fucking hate myself. 

__

{I wish that I could move, and I'm exhausted,   
And nobody understands (how I feel).}

Reaching the attic floor, I fished around in the back pocket of my jeans for my room key, groping around my wallet and the extra couple bullets I kept for my lucky six-shooter in there, which, I might add, is safely tucked away in a pair of old gym socks at the bottom of my duffel. I finally managed to procure the damn thing from the tight pouch and glanced down at it, lying there innocently in my palm. It was an ancient looking thing made of iron, the head made of curly twists of iron, a silver medallion proclaiming my room number dangling off a little piece of string tied around it. The key to my future or the key to a life of everlasting torment, it was mine to choose… in theory anyway. 

I readjusted my duffel on my shoulder, my fingers tightening nervously around the handle of my laptop bag and started down the hall with a heavy breath. I don't know why I even bothered packing. I don't really own anything worthwhile anyway, and in the end, it's not like I could take any of this shit with my where I was going anyway. All that anyone had ever given me that was safely mine was my ticket to heaven—or hell more likely. I was fucking damned from the second I was born. 

Ahead of me was an arched dormitory window ablaze with yellowish afternoon sun. It cast the whole hall in a surreal pasty fire coloured glow. I don't think I've actually _seen_ the sun in a good couple months, never mind that I've been on Earth for most of that time. I spent most of that time inside with my computer, keeping an eye on Duo and his assets to make sure he was doing well for himself. That was the best I could do for him, with perhaps the little add-on of a bit of hacking here and there to keep his bank account healthy. When all that business got old though, I eventually figured that if Duo knew how I had been wasting _my_ life away, he'd shoot me in six random places before busting a cap in my skull, especially since I told him that he had to make it on his _own_. I guess that's what brought me back to school—it's just the sort of move Duo would pull. 

At last finding my door, I pressed an ear to the wooden panel, listening for life within. Hearing nothing and hoping to God that I had a single dorm, I inserted the key into the old fashioned lock, ear still flat against the door as I turned the little metal implement, hearing the loud _click_ as it pulled the deadbolt back. I opened the door and let out a depressed sigh—it was a double dorm after all, though whoever I was sharing with was not there at the present moment… not that I minded. Most of the kids were still off on spring break anyway, so I would have the place to myself for at least a couple days before I would be doomed to meet whatever unfortunate would be stuck with me. 

Carelessly, I threw my duffel onto what seemed to be the spare bed, forgetting for a moment that I had at least four loaded firearms tucked away in the confines of that bag and set my laptop bag down almost lovingly on the floor beside it. The other half of the room by the window seemed to have been claimed by my future roomy. He had decorated the otherwise sterile room with a few posters here and there across the slanted roof, a wild neon green comforter spread across his bed, a lava lamp and a small boom box occupying the corner of the room's little writing desk that sat in his corner. I hope he kept his noise low, or I swear I'd have no qualms about using his stupid radio, or better yet, his head for target practice with one of said four firearms. 

Having nothing better to do with myself, I sat down on my new bed and unzipped my bag, methodically removing the neatly folded clothes and stacking them orderly on the bed. They said they would get me a uniform before classes began in a few days and though I usually never put up a fuss, I secretly dreaded the thought. Though I might not look it, I really detest conformity. That's all Duo's fault, I might add. Well, that plus a childhood full of more conformity than I care to think about at present. 

I finally got to the series of bundled clothes that contained my weaponry. I didn't really know what I might need a gun for in a snooty place like this, but I figured that it was better safe than sorry. It was part of my programming to always be prepared, like a fucking Boy Scout. I wondered briefly in the back of my mind if I was more worried about some nosy kid around here becoming a liability or if I had toted the guns along in case I decided that it was my mouth that had to be silenced. I quickly unwrapped each one to do a basic look-over, and though my revolver was in desperate need of a cleaning, I hastily packed them up again just as they were before and hid them artfully among the rest of my admittedly limited wardrobe. 

The sound of a pair of guys out in the hall distracted me for a moment, and old instincts had me automatically on the alert, listening like a keen fox to their each and every movement. Though I detected only two voices, their clopping footsteps gave away the presence of another in their company. I was annoyed at the notion that students were already beginning to return from break. That meant I might not have all the time to myself that I had previously hoped. I could tell they were drawing nearer to my room, getting dangerously close as their conversation on how many girls they had fucked over the holiday became amplified with their approach. I had only fucked one person in my life (in more ways than just one), that being one Duo Maxwell, and I knew I would never do another. Yeah, even right then, I could tell this was going to be a fucking long year. 

__

{I'm trying hard to breathe now,  
But there's nowhere in my lungs.}

I ignored irritating din, as it seemed to have halted outside, their conversation no longer wafting towards my door. For a moment, I thought that I had been safely removed from the threat of my roommate coming back any time soon and returned to my prior state of smug happiness that I would have the place to myself for a few more days. That was all dashed to pieces soon after I had thought it though, for right then, the lock snapped around and the door swung open. I had been so jarred from my mental ruminations that I found myself reacting to reality the only way I knew how—efficiently panicked. The trio of boys squeezed in the doorway were staring at me oddly as my hand immediately flew for the nearest of the bundles concealing my guns, my paranoid fingers hovering over the ball of cloth as my logical thought pattern kicked in and instilled some sense into me. 

One of the larger boys was glowering at me like I was some kind of rat that needed to be crushed into submission before school got going again. "The hell are you?" he snarled at me, pushing past his other two comrades into the room. 

I was still feeling a little nervous, trying to make the removal of my hand from the hidden gun as inconspicuous as possible. "Heero Yuy desu," I returned before I even realized I had reverted back to my native tongue. "Yoroshiku." 

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" the asshole moaned, annoyed that he could not understand. I mentally slapped myself for making myself stand out so much with the knowledge of another language. I supposed so long as they only knew I spoke _one_ other language, I would be safe and my slightly oriental features would explain the fact why I might know Japanese. I'd start having problems if they caught onto the _other_ nine languages I could speak fluently. 

"Oh, wait, are you the new kid?" the smallest of the bunch piped up, sliding around the other large asshole standing in the doorway. "Heero Yuy's your name?" He smiled almost genuinely in a way that reminded me of Quatre and might have looked just like him too, save for the curly reddish blonde hair and green eyes. "I'm your roommate, Thomas Bingley. Pleased to meet you!"

I nodded at him and said nothing else in return, blatantly ignoring the outstretched hand he held out to me as I went about rooting through my bag for the remnants of my belongings. I pulled out a few more pairs of socks, two green tee shirts, one my traditional tank, the other a tight short-sleeved affair of the same colour, a pair of jeans and a wooden box.

The box was easily the most precious of everything I had brought with me, a place for me to keep the things that were most important to me. It wasn't much to look at on the outside; there was no real ornamentation decorating its lacquered sides, its corners beat and on the whole covered with a multitude of scratches from the love it had endured over the years. I'd found the thing forgotten in one of the first dorm rooms Duo and I had ever shared together, sitting innocently atop the table beside the bed I was to occupy for the next few months. I couldn't explain what about the box had possessed me to keep it, but keep it I did. I had started keeping old this-and-that in there at some point even before I had admitted to Duo that he was more than just a convenient fuck-toy, beginning with an old hair tie of his. There wasn't really much else save an old dried up daffodil, a scrap of charred white cloth, photographs (mostly of Duo) and such, the newest addition being his dear golden cross. I wonder if it was some kind of hint that most of that stuff had reminded me of Duo or my crappy past. I don't know where he got the words, but he had been the one to carve the inscription on the underside of the lid with the large hunting knife he kept in his boot: _Could you believe in heaven if heaven was all you had?_

"Are you mute, new kid?" the other guy commented from the doorway, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. "Or is that gibberish language the only one you know how to speak?" 

Now that was a thought…. Maybe if I pretended that Japanese was the only thing I understood, I could avoid talking to them…. Hell, it would never work, with the classes here being taught in English and all, good idea as it was. Fuck. I found my trigger finger twitching unconsciously. 

"Quiet Austin," Bingley snapped moodily at the boy in the doorway. "Just because you failed _your_ foreign language class three years in a row doesn't mean you have to hound on everyone else who _didn't_." 

The other large boy found that as grounds to give Bingley a hearty shove. "Shut up yourself, Tom," he barked dangerously—at least, would have been dangerous for a kid like Bingley. Someone of my training was easily able to detect that he was bluffing and would not _really_ do much more to hurt the small strawberry blonde boy. 

"If you want to be the complete and total bastard you are, Darcy, take Austin and beat it," Bingley challenged, though coming from such a slight boy, it was hardly cause for alarm to the larger boys. Then again, I had been stupid enough to misjudge Duo's light frame the first time I met _him_. On the other hand, Duo was trained to be a Gundam pilot, as these boys had not. Still, it was not necessarily in Duo's muscular strength that the danger lied; Shinigami was more likely to creep up on you in the middle of the night and slit your throat while you dreamed. 

"Who says you get to boss us around?" the one called Darcy complained, cracking his knuckles against his beefy hip. 

"Since you walked into my room," Bingley snapped back almost on top of Darcy's last statement. "Go have your conversation about all those girls you banged over break in your _own_ dormitory." 

Austin was going to open his mouth and say something rude when I decided I had had enough of this foolish banter. "Will you three just shut the _fuck_ up?" I growled, my tone completely precarious. Unlike them, I was not afraid to use physical violence when I so needed to. Fuck what I said about never wanting to kill again. Perhaps at that precise moment with that Mariemaia child, Relena and Lady Une all staring at me like I was some kind of mythological hero had something to do with my state of mind then, but right now I was feeling positively murderous. For the first time, I was starting to really regret not just my most previous mistake of letting Duo go, but just about every other stupid thing I had ever done before that as well. I sure was good at fucking people over… particularly myself…. 

__

{There's no one here to talk to,  
And the pain inside is making me numb.}

"You have some nerve, new kid," Darcy stated, getting huffy and seemingly offended by my command. He struck me as the sort that was used to being obeyed. Unfortunately for him, so was I, and I somehow favoured my own odds against his in a fight. "Where do you come off saying shit like that when we've known you for all of ten fucking minutes!" 

"Fuck you," I snarled, my eyes still staring down at the bed as I gave him the finger, a little gesture I had picked up from Duo. 

"Get the fuck on your feet," Austin ordered, finally stepping into the room. "You've got some attitude for a new kid, _new _kid. I think you should learn your place around here." 

"Take another step and I won't be accountable for whatever injuries you incur because of it," I warned him, my eyes rising to meet his in one of my more unfriendly stares, not budging an inch from my spot on the bed. I think Duo had a name for it; called it my 'death glare' or something like that. 

"What's a little string bean like you going to do?" Austin shrugged confidently, daring to take that step I'd told him not to. Admittedly, I was a bit on the short side, and my coat and jeans concealed my muscled arms and powerful legs, which I admit, were even still rather slim, despite their strength. Obviously, he _did_ judge on appearances, and the fighter in me idly commented that he would make a lousy soldier. 

"Austin, I do _not_ want you starting a mess in _my_ dorm with _my_ new roommate!" Bingley protested in vain. He was a little too feeble and a little too unsure of himself to do much more than that. Perhaps he was not as much like Quatre as I had previously thought. Quatre might have been small, but strong, a good leader and could bravely fight his way through even the toughest of situations. I regret to think that I had thought ill of the little Arabian boy the first time I had met him—not that it was really much different for anyone else I knew. I noticed I was always mistrusting on the first go. 

It was too late for anything he had to say though. In a decision that took exactly 1.3 seconds, I decided that pulling a gun and wasting a bullet on him would be highly unwise and took the more physical route, flying off the bed and taking him down with a straight-on tackle that hit him right in the kidney. All this took a total of two complete seconds. 

"Shit," was all Darcy could think to say at the sight of his burly comrade lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling blankly. 

I straightened myself up and readjusted my shirt, dusting absently at a surface burn that had turned up on my elbow. "I told you not to come any closer. Now you know why."

"The hell are you made of?" Darcy gasped, bending down to sling his fallen friend over his shoulder. He dragged him to the door, shooting a wary glance back at me before getting his ass out of there like he was scared I might come after and kill the both of them with my bare hands. I couldn't safely say that the fear wasn't justified. I was in one fucking bad mood. 

{I try to hold this under control.  
They can't help me,  
'Cause no one knows….}

When they were gone, Bingley sat down on the bed on his side of the room, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap as he watched me return to the spot where I had been before they had interrupted me. I could feel his anxious darting eyes watching my every move as I went about reorganizing my clothes on my bed, unfolding and refolding methodically for lack of anything else to do. Much as I hate menial labour, it kept my mind busy enough to ignore both him and those thoughts of happier times that continued to plague me, constantly reminding me that I just might not be as damn clever as everyone seemed to think. "Don't mind them," he commented softly to my back. "They're actually really nice guys…. They're just always rough on people they don't know very well." 

"As am I," I remarked blandly, still focused on my folding. I said nothing more and left him sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell I was thinking about. Hn, good luck to him. 

"You… you can put your things in that chest of drawers," he said to fill the silence, his tone suggested that I had successfully managed to scare the living shit out of him. _Good_, I figured as I looked up to see him tentatively pointing at a bureau sitting near the door, a dark stare in my eye. "All my things are on the bottom. You can take the top three drawers… that is, if you'd like of course." 

I nodded to acknowledge his suggestion and took up an armful of clothes, moving quickly across the floor to the bureau. I pulled open the top drawer and carefully laid the stack of shirts inside, making sure they were all sitting neatly inside the box. I repeated the process with the rest of my clothes and the next two drawers, artfully dispersing the bundles that hid my guns among the rest of my innocent garments. 

"So," he said, taking a pause to suck in another edgy gasp of air before going on. "So, where'd you learn to take a guy like Austin down like that? You gotta pack a lot of muscle to be able to do that." 

"I had efficient teachers," was my plain reply. The kid might have just been trying to be nice, but I was in no temperament for it. It had hardly been two or so months since I had decided it was time Duo should go and get himself the life he had always deserved, and I was already starting to reap the pain of my decision. I think I was beginning to realize why Duo had _always_ hated it when I made choices like that for him. Little had I realized that such a choice would affect me as much as it would him. The notion that we should have gone our separate ways because he deserved a chance to make a life for himself was starting to sound dumber and dumber every time I recalled it. The look on his face before we had parted ways had seriously suggested to me that separating from me was _not_ the way he wanted to go about living his life. 

"Oh," Bingley replied, unsure of what to make of such an ambiguous answer. He seemed to be thinking of something else to say in the silence that ensued. "Well then, uh, 'Heero', was it? That sure is an interesting name. How did you come to be here? I mean, we don't get many exchange students and—"

"It's personal," I cut him off, slamming the last of the drawers shut violently, speaking before he had a chance to dig his grave any deeper. I had to admit that I kind of liked this Thomas Bingley, and I would probably regret it if I lashed out at him. But I knew that if he kept moving his mouth, there was a good chance that he might end up seriously hurt, even if I didn't mean it. 

"Oh," he sighed almost sadly. I guess his idea of a getting-to-know-you session wasn't going exactly as planned. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude…." 

"It's fine," I told him curtly, trying as hard as I could to sound humane. "You didn't know." 

"Is it something to do with the war?" he asked innocently, missing my flinch as my back was facing him. "I mean, a lot of the guys who were recruited to fight are coming home and have to enroll in school now that the war's through. It's kind of sick how young some of those kids are…."

"Yes," I agreed, thinking back to the eight-year-old me that had been subject to watching his father-figure die in cold blood before being snatched off the streets by a crazy scientist who seemed to have had the whole thing planned out from square one for the _sheer_ purpose of turning a boy into a weapon. "Much too young." 

"So, I mean, is that it?" Bingley implored. "Is that it? You were fighting in the war?" 

"I… I guess you could say that." I decided that would be a fair enough answer after a brief lapse in my stony façade. 

Bingley seemed to pick up on something in my voice, for his next comment cut through my skin and made me feel as if he were able to see my thoughts, a notion that instilled great fear in me. "There's more to it than just that… isn't there." It was not a question really. It was merely an understanding, a statement. Maybe Duo was right about me being really easy to read. Or maybe just too much time with the baka had made me a little frayed around the edges… though I can't really say that I minded those new threadbare aspects of myself. 

"There is," I said, still trying to supply him with fair answers. That was _only_ because his kindness reminded me of Quatre. Otherwise, I probably would have told him to fuck off. 

"But you…." 

"…Won't talk about it, yes, that's right. I won't," I finished for him. I turned around to face him at last, taking in the very concerned expression that riddled his soft features. He most certainly was a pampered rich boy, though I could tell that his eyes were not totally masked by the rose-tinted glasses often worn by the upper crust of society. "I don't expect you to understand. I don't expect anyone to." 

"I see," he said for lack of anything else, his eyes still watching me keenly as I returned to my bed and sat down on the edge of the springy mattress. It occurred to me that I had rarely boarded without Duo in the same room as me and the few times that I _had_ gone it alone, I had been severely at unease. I was now positive that I was going to have a horrible time this year. Shit…. 

__

{Now I'm going through changes, changes.

God, I feel so frustrated lately!  
When I get suffocated, save me.  
Now I'm going through changes, changes.}  


Spring break finished faster than I had anticipated and next thing I knew, I was waking up at six in the morning to prepare for classes. I beat Bingley to the shower that morning and hastily washed up, thankful that I did not have to battle for a spot in the communal showers as all the double dormitories had their own water closets. I emerged from the bathroom five minutes later to allow my roommate access to the shower and unearthed one of the stuffy uniforms they had fitted me for me soon after arriving. Not needing the aid of a mirror, I pulled on the dark slacks and the stiff button-down oxford. With the addition of the matching waistcoat and the black necktie that tied in a loose bow underneath my chin reminded me a little too much of the wretched uniforms worn at Relena's old school in the Cinque Kingdom. I didn't even bother to try and tame my hair; it would forever remain in perpetual disarray.

"What's your first class?" Bingley asked, trying to start an amiable chat as he exited the bathroom wrapped in a large white towel, heading over for the bureau to retrieve his own similar uniform. He had been attempting to engage me into a conversation all throughout break, and though I secretly appreciated the effort to reach out to me, I would have nothing of it and usually brushed him off with vague answers and one-worded replies and grunts. Duo had done the same thing to me and I ended up falling head-over-heels in love with him and look how _that_ ended up. I refused to let anyone else get close to me after that catastrophe. 

"Molecular biology, followed by literature and then post-colony history," I answered for etiquette's sake. Sometimes I felt bad about the cold shoulder I gave the kid, but talking too much would probably end up in a discussion that related to my past much more than I would care to divulge to him. It went without saying that I would not even _dream_ of telling him that I was one of the revered and hated Gundam pilots, specifically the hailed and spat upon 01. It wasn't really that that bothered me. It was trying to explain my feelings concerning Duo to a third party that would take courage. I had taken advantage of, abused and loved the braided pilot in ways that could not even be described in words. I couldn't even explain it to _myself_, let alone a boy I hardly knew. 

"Oh I have history with you then!" Bingley exclaimed, obviously happy. I inwardly groaned. Such a course was sure to discuss the recent wars and inevitably, the Gundams. I was not in a fair position to give my opinion on either. 

I managed a weak smile at him as I bent down to lift up my school bag, shouldering it and walking swiftly from the room without another backward glance. Guilt is a nasty thing, let me tell you. 

The first two periods went by without a hitch. I was formally introduced to the class at the beginning of each class. I would give a curt bow and glare as harshly as I could at them, just daring them to try and approach me before being directed to a seat, from whence class would commence. Soon realizing that most of the material that would be presented to me in the science class (and presumably math courses as well) were things I had known since I was a boy, I tuned out the droning professor and turned my focus inward, thinking of my past transgressions against the world and the people… person… I loved most. 

__

{I'm feeling weak and weary,  
Walking through this world alone.}

History indeed proved to be the hell I expected it to be. I heard various students rail for and against the Gundams, the teacher seeming to be unsure of exactly what role we pilots had in the battle for peace, calling us a 'necessary evil'. It was all the stupid meaningless ideals that those who did not actually have to fight usually tended to spout. I guess I could understand why the common populace of the world would be of the disposition they were. They were not there in the cockpit with any of us as we fought. I sincerely do not think that the general public _truly_ understood what the essence of the fighting had even been about, and to that notion, I remain true. 

So lost was I in my inner grumbling about the class and haphazard daydreams of Duo, that I was only half aware when the teacher called on me unexpectedly. This is _exactly _why I knew I would hate this class. "Mister Yuy… Mister _Yuy_!" he was saying, trying to grab my attention. When I finally snapped out of my inner pondering, he asked his question, which I was more than reluctant to respond to. "Mister Yuy, what is your opinion on this most recent war concerning the coup of Mariemaia Kushrenada? Was it justified?" 

"I have no opinion," I said dismally, cradling my chin in my palm, the bored expression apparent on my face, "other than that what happened was proof that winning peace is one thing, but keeping it is another. The people cannot be handed such a precious gift and be expected to keep it without any work. Obviously the world was spoiled enough to let that happen and hopefully, they were able to learn a lesson from it easier than I did." 

"And if that is so," the teacher prodded, trying to get at some unknown point, "what have you done, to keep this peace that is so hard to control, Mister Yuy?" 

My face hardened as my eyes rose to finally meet his, boring down across the room to rip holes through his body. I think I saw him visibly wan at my expression. "I have fought a very long and hard road for peace." 

"I do not understand your meaning. Specifically, please, Mister Yuy." Despite the commanding request, I could tell the teacher was a little frightened to ask it of me. I wondered if it was a good or a bad sign that I was starting to put up all my old shields and defenses. Not that it mattered; none of these fools would be able to penetrate them anyway. 

"I cannot tell you more than that," I answered, my voice grave. I think he was going to open his mouth to say more, but I refused to give him the chance. He was just as sheltered, seeing the world through those rosy lenses as the rest of the children in the class, his teaching showing it well. "It is more than you or anyone here could ever hope to comprehend."

"I do not take keenly to impudence, Mister Yuy," he scoffed at me, missing the angered and pained expression in my eyes. "Perhaps I was not clear in my question, Mister Yuy. Let me restate: What are your feelings about war and how did you deal with it?" 

"Have you ever buried your face in your hands because no one around you understands what it is that makes you be?" I went on to ask, still sounding as dark and serious as before. I could feel the entire room staring at me with open jaws and startled eyes at one, my words, and two, that I had dared to challenge the teacher's authority. Despite Bingley's comment from break about soldiers coming home from war, I was pretty sure that a very small percentage of this school's population had been personally touched by war. "Have you ever felt like there was someone else keeping score and what could make you whole was simply out of reach?" 

"I… I…" he stammered, taken aback by my comments. There was no way he could ever understand the weight of what I had said. He had not walked my life in my shoes, so how could he? He had not undergone a childhood of rigorous forced training and mind control, did not comprehend what it was like to be screaming at the top of his lungs unheard. Nor did he know what it was like to struggle with distorted and suppressed emotions that seemed to have no place in a soldier, constantly yearning for something more and not knowing where to even begin looking for it. The teacher eventually gathered himself and answered. "No, Mister Yuy, I have not." 

"I have," I finished, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat, blue fire dancing in my eyes. "Tell me if this answers your queries: If the truth walks away, then who is there to make the world better? Evil prevails when good men do nothing, _Sir_. So as you stand there talking about what the Gundams did or didn't do, should or should not have done, know that what they did was for everyone but themselves and that even now, they continue to fight. And I don't expect anyone who was not on the battlefield to understand." With those words, I stood up and picked up my bag, nodded to the teacher and promptly walked out of the class, leaving a room full of dumbfounded stares. I turned and said in an ambiguous tone before I closed the door behind me, "So if _you_ walk away, who will remain there to bring change? I would like to think the world has become a better place." And I left. 

Did I mention I had always hated ideological discussions on the Gundams and the war? An incident like that had managed to take place without fail in each and every similar class I had been forced to sit through from the beginning. Needless to say, I would not be returning to _that_ class anytime soon. 

{Everything I say, every word of it,  
Cuts me to the bone (and I bleed).}

Hardly in the least bit hungry, I returned to my dormitory at lunchtime to mull over the misadventures of the day. Perhaps school had not been the best choice of ways to occupy my time. It had been so much easier before when I had Duo to help me along. Usually I was able to just let him do all the talking while I just sat in silence and watched. But now that I was forced to do that on my own, I was beginning to find it over my head. Perhaps the laughing jester's costume that Duo so often chose to conceal his own tormented soul within was not as easy as I had written it off in days past. 

Not expecting any company for the next hour or so, I spent my time in one of the few strangely calming activities I knew. Rooting through one of my drawers, I withdrew a spare pack of cigarettes, a lighter and the balled up sweatshirts wrapped around two of my favourite guns, bringing them to the desk to give them a much needed cleaning. I had set up my laptop there already, Bingley's stereo having been moved to the floor underneath the little writing table, though I consented to allowing him to keep his gaudy lava lamp there. Truth be told, I liked it because it was the sort of tacky ornament that Duo would have liked to keep. I think I recall him having a purple one in his cabin on the Sweepers ship. I moved my laptop out of the way and set down the two bundles, unwrapping one to reveal the sleek black handgun I had usually carried with me during the first war. It was the one I had constantly threatened Relena with, the one I had brought with me when I thought I might execute Duo on the lunar base myself, the one that held far too many memories to let go. 

I withdrew a cigarette from the pack and lit up. The roll of nicotine hung lazily out of my lips as I pressed the magazine release on the gun and let the clip fall out of the gun's handle into my awaiting palm, setting it aside gently. From there I proceeded to dismantle the rest of the weapon, unscrewing the silencer and muzzle, lovingly setting aside each piece as I did so. The task made me feel like I was back in my past, living in some school with Duo, waiting for him to come back from a late night partying. It had always been that way. I would hang out alone in the dormitory with my guns and my laptop while he was out socializing… not that he didn't try and get me to go with him. Little did he know that I the reason I hated to accompany him to such… 'shindigs' as he called them… was because I had more than a little trouble watching him dance. Actually, Duo dancing by himself was a very sensual thing. To be exact, I hated watching him dance with other people. I hated watching them put their hands all over him and grind close in a mess of swaying, sweaty bodies and heavy breathing. He was mine. He always joked about how I hated sharing my toys so much. Fortunately, he would always return, and I got to have him all to myself for the rest of the night. I don't think he ever truly understood how important those trysts in particular meant to me. It reminded me that there was still someone who would care enough to come back for me, someone who might cry if I never did. 

__

{I've got something to say,  
But now I've got nowhere to turn.} 

I was so lost in these thoughts and the cloud of smoke that wafted around me, that I did not hear the door open and, reacting on the instincts that lived in those memories, I was more than quick to grab my lucky six-shooter from the other bundle, aiming it at whoever it was that stepped through the door. It took a few seconds before the blood drained away from my vision and I saw that I was pointing a very illegal gun at my roommate, who was standing there with his arms raised over his head and sweating bullets. I hastily lowered the pistol and laid it on the desk, not bothering to hide it again, as there would be no point. "Sumimasen," I whispered, scooting my chair away from the desk, eyes focused on my lap. "I did not know it was you." 

"A-Are you saying you would have fired if it was anyone else?" He let out a nervous chuckle as he slowly stepped into the room and closed the door after him. 

"I might have," I said, a sadistic grin creeping across my features, "though it might have brought me a good deal of unwanted attention." 

"Who are you?" he wondered aloud, still staring at me with wide green eyes. He looked rather pale and dizzy as he sat down on the foot of my bed as he watched me from the other side of the room at what he judged to be a safe distance. Not that distance meant much to a sharpshooter sitting a mere five feet away. "Your comments in history this morning were very… interesting…. And now I find out you keep a gun…. I'm almost afraid to know what other secrets you have." 

"I am… no one," I told him, lifting my chin up, eyes wandering across the ceiling, withdrawing the cigarette from my lips as I let out a heavy smoke-filled breath of air, tapping the ashes accumulating on the tip across the floor. "And I'm through with secrets. All they ever got me was the fucked up existence I call my past. Now I'm just…. Just a nobody with no direction and no life now that the war is over."

"Oh." I did not like the pity I heard in his voice. The last thing I wanted was pity. Pity would get me dead. I could not afford to be pitied.

"Have you ever walked through a room and it was more like the room passed around you like there was a leash around your neck that pulled you through?" I asked, my mind returning to that state it had been in when I had lectured the history teacher third period. 

"Sometimes," he admitted. I think he was being honest with me. Quatre came to mind again and I remembered why I liked this boy. Being so easily reminded of someone I was familiar with made me feel more comfortable, a feeling that I had almost forgotten. "It's like being somewhere recognizing everyone's face until you realize that there was no one there you know." 

"It's like… falling," I assessed with another inhalation of my cigarette. I really didn't mind if the damn cancer sticks killed me. I wished I could fade away. Quite frankly, I didn't give a shit if I woke up in the morning or not. I sighed, letting out another mouthful of smoke. "Maybe someday I'll try again, get it straight, stop pretending, stop forever." 

"What… happened to you to make you this way?" Bingley asked. I don't think he even really knew what he was asking of me until he started to babble away mercilessly in an effort to make amends when he saw the pained expression cross my face. At least I was past showing him unkindness. "Not that you have to tell me or anything. I mean, I guess I have no right to pry and—"

"Thomas, enough, please," I said, cutting him off prematurely. He looked up, startled at the sound of his first name. I extinguished the burning cigarette on the back of my hand, barely flinching as I did so. I think he felt the burn more than I did, and the visible wince on his face certainly demonstrated so. Such pain reminded me that I was alive, not a dead wandering shade that wandered with the souls of those who died during the wars. "I wish I could tell you but in truth… I don't even know _how_ to…." 

"You… were a soldier, weren't you," he finally stated. 

"It's that obvious?" I questioned curiously. I figured he probably would have discovered at least that much eventually, but I wanted to know why he decided that was so. 

"You're… different from everyone else here," Bingley explained, still fidgeting a little with his hands. "Everyone else lives in their little clouded bubbles, living out their lives like nothing else matters. They talk about politics and other such idioms without really knowing what they're saying. They've never wandered the streets to see how the real world lives. The highlight of their lives is the parties and the dances of high school, whether or not they get to go to prom or if they're popular or not. I knew you had to be somehow different…. There's this look in your eye. The minute I saw you, I knew you were a rebel and a fighter. All that matters is whatever it is you believe so hard in to fight a war for." 

I let out a low amused laugh, slouching back in my chair, legs spread over the corner, my arms flung lazily over the back. "You're pretty astute for a rich snot in a place like this." 

He took my sarcasm well, though I have to say that the comment, cynical as it might have sounded, was my true thought on his comments. Maybe there was more to Thomas Bingley than what met the eye. I'd made that mistake of taking someone at face value again. Heh, and I complain about _other_ people judging books by their covers. 

__

{It feels like I've been buried underneath   
All the weight of the world.}

"…Heero…." he spoke up suddenly, distracting me from my thoughts. He seemed afraid to ask whatever it was he had to say, despite my extremely lax demeanor then. He rolled it around in his head for a little bit before he actually spoke, not able to look me straight in the eye until he was through. "What is it you're fighting for?"

Now there was a question I had not been expecting. Shit. And I didn't even know how to begin to answer. There was so much more to it than just peace and war. Things that were almost more important than such trivialities…. 

"Whatever it is, I can tell it's important to you," he went on, sensing the unease in my silence. "You're still fighting, even now." 

"Have you ever had everything you could ever want, only to throw it away because you didn't understand what it was you had?" I asked, hoping that perhaps whatever he had to say would help me to explain how I felt. He had been good with his words so far…. I hoped his winning streak wasn't about to run dry. I could use the support, much as I hated to admit it. But I was falling faster and faster, and if I didn't grab onto something quick, I would drown.

"Well-l-l, I don't know," he said slowly, diplomatically weighing out his words carefully, just the way Quatre used to. "Perhaps not on the same level, but I… Yes, well, perhaps I do think I know what you mean." 

"I had it," I said, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees, head drooping so that all I could see was the grain of the wood swirling beneath my shoes. "I had… everything, that is, and I didn't even realize it until I gave it away. It's like…. It's like having some priceless artifact you always had lying around that you dug up in the attic and giving it away, not ever once knowing its true value until you looked back on it and realized its worth." 

"You were… in love… weren't you?" He was really getting good at these guessing games. It was time we stopped before he found out more than I cared for him to know, not necessarily for my safety, but for his. "That's why you think you're alone." 

I said nothing to this. To be honest, I was afraid that he might try and lecture me on my stupidity, something I really didn't need to hear from anyone—I got that kind of rap from my _own_ conscience more than enough. So I merely responded by turning away and staring aimlessly at my dismantled gun, thinking of nothing but anger and regret. 

It wasn't until he started trying to fill the silence with his explanations to justify his statement that I reacted. Not with words, mind you, but with the plainness of my actions. My hand nearest the desk slowly extended, as if in a trance, sliding across the flat tabletop like a dark cloud until it found its way to the handle of my six-shooter. Fingers tightening around it, I pulled it back towards me and held it between my legs, staring down at it like it was some kind of god. 

__

{I try to hold this under control.  
They can't help me,  
'Cause no one knows….}

"Heero…." I heard him say in a warning tone, though his words were more like a dizzy blur that whizzed by my head in a loud whistling howl. 

One corner of my mouth quirked upwards into that dangerously smug little grin of mine as I pulled back the hammer, hearing it withdraw the safety on the gun with a satisfying _kerchick_. Still entranced by the antique weapon's silver sheen, I raised the gun up, my eyes slowly rising to look across the room at Bingley, who was watching me with a horrified look in his eyes. My smirk grew wider, my eyes dilating in an almost maniacal way as I pressed the slim muzzle of the revolver against my temple. I'd toyed with this kind of fire before, and every time I'd lost my nerve. Usually it would happen in times like these when I had decided that life was just too fucking hard to put up with anymore and that I needed a quick way out. And every time, next thing I knew, I would get some kind of revelation, a reminder as to why I needed to stay alive. Usually that came in the form of either a certain pilot with long braided hair, his goofy comrades or a towheaded schoolgirl whose very presence radiated the essence of hope. Why did all those people have to believe in me so fucking much when all I wanted to do was disappear. 

"Sayonara, Thomas," I whispered, my finger tightening around the trigger, a strange sort of release beginning to consume me. "Omae wa… shinsetsu deshita." 

"What the hell are you doing!?" he cried, leaping to his feet as my finger pulled the trigger back further. Everything seemed to suddenly be moving in slow motion, the analog clock on the wall seeming to cease its ticking for the moment. Bingley was rushing towards me as quickly as this retarded time warp would allow. Dimly, I was aware of the slight clacking noise as the chamber rotated around, aligning the harbinger of my freedom with my head. Just a little tighter…. I was tired. So very, very tired…. I wanted badly to sleep forever. So tired…. Only a bit more and I could go to the world of dreams forever….

Time suddenly blew back into its normal flow as my finger finally finished its slow journey towards the handle. I felt the gun shudder in my hand as an explosion of power ricocheted through the barrel against my head, sending me careening over onto the desk in a limp mess. The revolver flew out of my hand and landed on the wooden floor with a clatter, gliding under the bed into perpetual darkness. As my head hit the tabletop, I found that there was no pain anymore and felt peace at last that now I could be free before an unending darkness clouded my vision. And then there was nothing. 

{Now I'm going through changes, changes!  
God, I feel so frustrated lately!  
When I get suffocated, save me!  
Now I'm going through changes, changes!}  


I woke up later, unsure of where and when I was, or even if I was alive or not. Was hell designed to be just the same as the miserable living world? My eyes focused on white. As my vision became less hazy, I realized that I was staring at a ceiling, the cracked ceiling over my bed to be more specific. With a slight pain shooting through my head and down my spine, I turned my head to find Bingley sitting on the desk chair beside my bed, his attention consumed by my revolver, which he was currently playing with, sliding the rotating clip in and out, in and out. 

"Have I made it to hell and are you a servant of the Devil?" I asked feebly, the sound of my voice disgusting to my own ears, though it seemed to make Bingley happy to hear it. 

"Perhaps it is Elysium," Bingley suggested, his eyes wet with emotion, as he looked up at me, his cheeks red and sticky, though his hands were still fumbling with the gun. He had been crying, I think. (I guessed so because that's how Duo looked after he cries.) "And maybe I am the Devil." 

"No, you can't be," I sighed, turning away from him to watch the cracks on the ceiling again. "The Devil doesn't look like you." 

"You know what the Devil looks like?" He sounded shocked, intrigued and a little bit curious too. I knew he was waiting for an answer because his fiddling with the gun ceased for a moment. 

"Yes," I answered, still staring at the ceiling mindlessly, never before realizing how entrancing and strangely beautiful a brackish ceiling covered in fissures, chinks and faults could be. "The Devil has these mystical plum eyes of many layers that you could just drown in forever and never once know you're slowly dying, gasping for air and struggling as you sink deeper and deeper into those bottomless drunken irises. And his hair isn't like yours. It's long, long, oh so long, and light brown like… like oak or chestnuts…. His face is rounder and his nose smaller, slightly upturned, like an elf's. His ears are elfin too, somewhat pointed at the tops and a bit outturned. And his lips…. Oh his lips are full and of the palest, most exquisite coral pink you ever did see, perfect for kissing…" 

"Oh. Heh, well then," he stammered, unsure of what to make of my blathering. I hated it when these delirious spells set in; I always said the strangest things without understanding how or why they came to be from my mouth. "…Maybe you are in Elysium after all, soldier boy." 

"Me, in a paradise created for heroes?" I couldn't resist the laugh that spouted from my throat and leaked over my lips at that comment. Gathering myself and sucking in a deep breath, I turned my head to him again and told him exactly why that could not be true. "The Devil himself said he would see me in hell. I believe him. So that leaves only two options. One, I'm dead and in hell, as promised, or two, I fucked up again and I'm still alive." 

"Thank goodness you are," he whispered, ignoring my maniacal stare. He returned to staring at the gun before speaking again. Holding up the weapon, the clip rolled out to the side, revealing the six bullet chambers within. "Two bullets. Two stupid bullets!" His voice was soft but firm, almost desperate. Even I could tell he was disappointed with my gun slinging antics. Obviously he did not know me very well if this was the sort of thing he considered abnormal. "You only had two damn bullets in this gun and you just _had_ to go and scare the _shit_ out of my with your little game of Russian roulette! Now you listen to me, Heero Yuy, and you listen damn good, you hear me? I may have only known you a few weeks, and I know I couldn't ever hope to understand what you've been through or what goes through your head every day, but don't you ever try to do that again! Don't you ever think that your life is worth throwing away? What about those you leave behind? Did you ever think of that? Huh, did you?" He was yelling by then, his face getting red again. "Do you understand me?"

"Shinigami wasn't ready for me yet," I whispered, sounding all too much like Duo. "That is all there is to it. It was no fault of yours or mine." 

"Oh, it wasn't your fault that you put a gun to your head, pulled the trigger and were lucky enough to only get out of it with a bruise on the side of your face?" he raged. I personally don't think he had any right to get mad at me when he didn't even understand why I did the things I did. I guess he really was a sheltered rich kid at heart, better than most, but still blind.

"Correct," I said, getting tired of this useless banter. I rolled over on the bed with my back facing him so I wouldn't have to look at his face. …Or perhaps it was so he wouldn't have to see the moisture clouding the blues of my eyes that I had survived my little experiment. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly. I heard the light metallic rattle of the revolver as he laid it down somewhere nearby and the hollow sound of a drawer being pushed in. His footsteps filled my ears, slowly clopping their way towards the door at the foot of my bed, the opening of the door, and another whispered statement before he left. "I hope you're sorry too… for whatever you did." 

__

{I'm bound and shaking,  
Bound and breaking,  
I hope I make it through all these changes!}

I think I slept a long time after that. I skipped classes the next two days and never once left the safety of my cocoon of blankets, not even to eat. I think Bingley had made up some excuse along the lines of the poor new exchange student having trouble adjusting to his new lifestyle and falling ill or something. I was snappish and even moodier than usual, forbidding anyone other than my roommate to set foot inside the dormitory. I yelled at Bingley whenever he tried to talk to me, even if it was to offer me food or something and nearly took his head off when he tried to move my dismantled handgun into a more secretive place from its current spot, still strewn across the desk. After that, he gave up on me, declared me incorrigible and thankfully hasn't spoken to me since. 

At long last, after almost four straight days of pessimistic moping around the dormitory, I finally managed to haul my ass out of bed, unable to take my own state of disgusting uncleanness any longer. It was about four in the afternoon on a Friday. Most of the school was either packing up for the weekend or lost in the sweep of preparing for the weekend. Bingley may have thought that I was dead to the world, but I sure had him fooled. I had kept perfect track of every hour, every second that ticked by since my dance with the Devil earlier that week. 

I slowly made my way to the little bathroom, hardly able to keep on my own two feet for the trip there. For a kid who had been forced into enough training to make him the very essence of what a perfect solider 'ought to be, my precision and balance was horribly off. I entered the tiny room, kicking the door closed behind me, barely able to make it to the sink. I had to support all my weight on the porcelain bowl, staring down at the dark drain like it was the most amazing thing I had ever laid eyes on. 

"Life's a lot to think about when you're living in between the lines," a voice said. I looked up, glancing warily around me for the speaker, my darting blue eyes finally settling on the hollow reflection shining in the mirror before me. The image there was distorted, strangely me and yet, not me at all. He was an empty looking man with wan skin as powdery white as a glaring spectre, his once intense blue gaze muted and dull, sunken back into empty eye sockets that were ringed with blackness. His cheekbones were gaunt and his once full lips pale enough to blend in with the rest of his sickly skin. Matted dark brown hair was pressed strangely against his head, sticking up at weirder angles than usual, his unruly bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. "What do you get to help you through the sleepless nights?" the reflection asked me tiredly. 

"I don't have anything with no one there to hold me," I answered the mirror image of myself, raising a hand to meet his upon the gleaming quicksilver surface. "All I have is what I feel… and I feel…." 

My vision blurred a little and the picture I was watching in the mirror changed. In place of my tousled appearance was the sunny countenance of Duo Maxwell, his cheeks flush and cherry, eyes wide and lilac violet. He had that sly half-smirk on his face, arms crossed in an almost mocking manner. At the hallucination of my lover, I started to feel a little light-headed and sick to my stomach. "I know you feel helpless and I know you feel… put on."

"I _am_ helpless," I whispered to myself, panting a little bit. I was starting to get the dry heaves, retching over the sink in desperation to lose whatever was sloshing in my stomach so violently. "I feel like I'm so far away from the sun. No one can see me. You have to tell me which way I 'ought to go from here, Duo!" 

"Heero, that's the same road that I'm on. I know you're just trying to find where you belong," my doppelganger Duo replied plainly, hands now on his hips. "It all just depends on where you want to get to."

"I… I don't much care _where_," Heero answered weakly, trying to reach out to touch Duo's face, but finding only a cool barrier separating them, "just so long as I get _somewhere_." 

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," the mirror phantasm replied smugly, his words practically riding on the tail end of mine. "You're sure to get somewhere, if only you walk long enough." 

I felt this could not be denied and hung my head in thought, the back of one hand pressed against my lips to stop the threat of anymore retching, though I could not help but gag a little as a faint sensation took flight between my ears. 

"What is it exactly that you are looking for, Heero?" he asked. 

I felt a pull in my chest and the rise of bile in my throat. I gurgled it back, swallowing the foul-tasting muck back into my suddenly churning stomach as I looked up at the still swaggering vision of Duo. "Whatever it is, I can't reach it. It's nothing tangible," I tired to explain vainly, feeling worse. "I think it's through the looking glass." 

"No, Heero," Duo replied ambiguously, tilting his head somewhat to the side, thick chestnut braid snapping up from behind him like a tail when he flicked it back the other way. "It is you who is through the looking glass." 

"…Am I crazy, Duo?"

"Oh you can't help that," the mirage of Duo smiled like a Cheshire cat and purred in the mysterious tone of his that sounded so much like the Duo Maxwell I knew and loved and yet, rang with an almost disturbing quality that I could not place. "We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad…." 

I snapped downwards, still barely able to hold myself up over the sink as my mouth fell open, a thick slop of stomach juices and bile emptied from my stomach, coating my lips in a fetid sheen of dank orange-yellowish goo. 

__

{Now I'm going through changes, changes.  
God, I feel so frustrated, lately!   
When I get suffocated, save me.  
Now I'm falling apart, now I feel it!}  


Panting harder than before, I slowly lifted my gaze back to the mirror, my own tentative reflection slowly rising up into the oval frame as I did so. I could barely recognize that frightened man staring back at me. I sneered at him, rage building at the reflection's equally disgusted sneer that met my eyes. "Fuck you! Let me out of this damn prison!" I cried breathlessly as I pounded the bottom of my fist onto the mirror in an effort to wipe that damn look off my twin's face. I didn't even realize it as the mirror's glassy smooth surface splintered and cracked a little under my fist. "Fuck you!" I shouted at it again, slamming my fist straight on into my reflection's face, my entire hand gliding right through the mirror and lodging itself past my wrist in the frail drywall underneath. Bits of plaster and glass chipped and sprinkled down over my arm. "Fuck you! Let me out!" I could see the blood lining the edges of the broken mirror and staining hole in the drywall. "Fuck you," I whispered, eyes wide and still breathing hard. "Let me out, please. I don't want to be trapped here forever. Just let me on the other side of the looking glass, even just for a little bit. Onegai…." 

I slowly withdrew my hand from the cavern in the wall, looking down in awe at the bloody carnage that smeared it. I was almost entranced by the violence I had done to myself, looking up at the destroyed mirror, unable to see one clear image of myself anymore. Rather, there were multiple smaller versions of myself, all staring back at me from their individual jagged planes of sliver glass. My hand fell limply to my side, the blood trickling over my fingers, leaking out of the wounds in my palm that my fingernails had inflicted, dripping down to the floor in large droplets of syrupy red liquid. "I hate this," I said quietly, looking down my arm at the streaming crimson rivulets. "I hate…. Hate…. I hate when all I want is love. And I know pain when I can't feel…." 

I had no time to finish my mutterings as another bucket of retched bile climbed my esophagus and poured forth into the sink. The putrid stuff was dried and caked to my lips and chin, tainted by the stroke of scarlet the crossed my mouth as I swiped the back of my hand across it in an effort to wipe it clean. "The pain makes me real," I spoke in hushed tones as I stared down at the mess slopped across the sink bowl, various angular flakes of glass lost here and there amid the heavy juice. My mutilated hand slid down the smooth curve of the sink, fingers wading through the bile as they searched out one of the larger shards of mirror. Callused digits closed around the glass as I lifted it from the mucky graveyard and held it aloft before my eyes for careful scrutiny. It was stained with daubs of blood and bile, obscuring my reflection in its irregular shape. I squeezed it tighter, flinching a little as the razor edges cut into my skin, drawing bubbled founts of blood around its sides, as my grip became more and more vice-like. "This is real. I'm real," I reminded myself as the searing sting whistled through my nerves. "I'm not a toy, not a wind-up doll or a puppet," I kept on muttering, taking my other hand and swiping it across the top edge, slicing a fine gash across the palm. "I'm real, I'm alive. I am… I am…." 

I raised my left hand, the one that I had just injured, staring incredulously at the seeping wound on the pad of my hand. Other than that brackish red patch, it was pristine, with only a few nicks and calluses tainting its white flesh. It bothered me, that perfection. I hated it. I hated perfection. I was not perfect anymore. I lowered my hand, bringing the other across my torso to stroke it almost lovingly with bloodied fingers, painting my own blood across the white canvas. "Pain… I am pain!" I cried, raising the hand wrapped around the glass and bringing it flying across my wrist in a perfect swooping arc, slicing a sloppy and thick slit across the ashen flesh. "And I no longer care!" I screamed, bringing the glass blade back across my skin in another violent swipe. "Take me back!" I shouted at the glass as I repeated the damage a third time, the sting not being anywhere near enough to assure me that I was truly alive. "Take me away from fucking Wonderland!" 

"Heero?" a soft panicked voice on the other side of the door called out to me tentatively. Bingley…. "Heero? Are you alright in there?" He was rapping lightly on the door as if he meant to get my attention. God, he was one of those fucking politely rude types. 

"Hai, daijoubu," I growled softly, not paying attention to the language I was using as I threw my weight against the bathroom door with a dull _thud_. I pressed my hands against the door, palms down, feeling the warm slick squelch as they gilded easily over the wood with the lubrication of my own blood. My wounds were leaking profusely now, plopping upon the greenish linoleum floor in endless streams. I could see the blood splattered across the lip of the sink, spattered across the wall, splashed in shallow puddles on the floor, my footsteps slurring the reddened pools in streaks leading to my spot against the door. It looked like someone had been murdered in there. I started to laugh a little to myself, at myself, for what I had just done. I had painted this room red myself with my own hardships. It reminded me of what my life and my dreams were like, hideous and sprayed with blood. My chuckles inclined a little bit, resembling those old psychotic laughs I used to let out when Wing and I had killed something. 

"Heero? Heero!" I heard Bingley shout at me again, his pounding on the door becoming faster and more worried. I don't know what was scaring him so much. This was all okay. It proved to the world that I was a human and that I was real. It proved I wasn't just a lost and confused character in a storybook, tumbling down a rabbit hole into a world of oblivion and fear. "Heero, open this door right now!"

I ignored him and stumbled blandly towards the middle of the little room again, turning around to face the door. It was sullied with a wide smudge of my blood that seeped and blended it with its wooden surface. My head was spinning as I tried to grab the edges of the sink, missing the bowl entirely, beginning a slow descent to the bloody floor. 

__

{But I'm going through changes, changes!  
God, I feel so frustrated lately!  
And I get suffocated; I hate this!  
But I'm going through changes, changes….}

The last thing I registered as I knocked my chin roughly against the lip of the sink was how alone I really was. No one knew of my inner turmoil. No one cared… 

…. Not even me. 

**__**

*~ '…Cheshire Puss…. Can you tell me which way I 'ought to go from here?**' ~***

()() **_OWARI_** ()()

**A/N** Uh, hope you liked it. Maybe I'll do another chapter…. Like I said, it might not be _absolutely_ essential that you read _Coming Through the Rye_ first to enjoy this story, but I think this reads more completely if you kind of know how Heero is operating in that story. And if you caught the trend with the other kids' names, snuggles! I'll hint you that they're from an old classic, two of them characters (both of whom I like, by the way) in the story and the other named after the author, hehe. Um, sorry for the random Offspring and 3 Doors Down song lyrics littered throughout the story, but that's just because of whatever I happened to be listening to at the time and they seemed to fit, so there you go. Oh, and if you caught all that obvious _Alice in Wonderland_ stuff, kudos to you! I love that book…. (Heh, on a random note, don't you think that it's interesting that Lewis Carol wrote that about opium and shit?) 

Don't forget to review, fools! ~L.W. 


	2. The Warmth

****

~* Changes

By Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper 

****

A/N Guess I did decided that another part would be in order after all. Same disclaimers and such apply, though this one is from Duo's POV instead of Heero's. Song belongs to the incredible Incubus. Umm, hope you like it. 

Oh, and other happy news while I'm at it. My other GW story, _Little Tin Flower, Red Stitches and a Rain Soaked Angel_ got archived on the amazing atsui.org! Hurrah! Go check it out—A-chan's new layout is really pretty!

(o) _Session II_ (o)  


()() _The Warmth_ ()()

The ceiling looked warbled, my vision tinted with the strangest hue of aquamarine and streaked with crimped yellowish ribbons. A slim line of bubbles floated upwards, breaking into fizzy little splotches of foam somewhere between my mouth and the ceiling. My hair floated around me in long silky tendrils, undulating through the water like live snakes. A dull echoing emptiness pounded in my ears, the sounds of the world seeming to be miles away. It was so surreal lying like that at the bottom of the bathtub where no one could see me, hidden away in my little cove. 

"Duo? Duo!" I heard Hilde's voice vaguely ringing around me, the incessant sound of her pounding away at the front door of my apartment pealing down the hall towards my bathroom. "He-e-ey in there! I know you're home Duo Maxwell! Open up!" 

I catapulted up into a sitting position, the water splashing up around me as I drew myself from the bottom of my tub-sized pond. An annoyed expression crossed my face as I stood and climbed out, the water pouring in droves down my loose hair and over my body. Much as I liked Hilde, she had the world's _worst_ timing ever! Grabbing one of the giant fluffy towels that hung on the rack nearby, I wrapped my slim body tightly, the fuzzy orange material covering my from under my arms to about an inch past my knees. I had to keep such enormous towels for A), drying my extremely long knee-length curtain of hair and B), answering house calls like _these_ from my best female friend (even if she was more like one of the guys) in the middle of a nice luxurious bath. 

Stalking down the hall, I swathed my dripping mane of hair in another one of the huge towels and gave it a quick scrubbing dry. I had way too much hair to just wrap it up turban style and live with it. Still rubbing at my hair, I reached the end of the little hall and went to the front door, glancing through the peephole to check that it truly was Hilde just out of habit. One hand still lost amid towel and hair, I undid the chain lock, pulled back the three deadbolts in the door and turned the handle to pull it open. So sue me, I was still a little paranoid. Two wars within in a year of each other will do that to a guy. 

"This had better be _good_," I said to her deadpan, my mouth in a little pout on the side of my face, eyes riddled with an extremely dry expression. 

__

[I'd like to close my eyes and go numb,  
But there's a cold wind coming from  
The top of the highest high rise today.]

"Ehehehe," she chuckled nervously, producing a clipboard from behind her back and holding it out to me. "You, uh, forgot to do your budgeting for the garage this month. You can't hope to pay for _all_ your engines with drag racing"—she really hated that whole hobby of mine—"And I need an inventory check to make sure we don't need to go digging through the yard any time soon for new parts." 

I snatched the clipboard out of her hand a little rougher than I meant to, my large violet eyes skimming over the black typewritten lettering across the white pages from beneath my knitted brows. My eyes flicked up over the clipboard to glance at her, my expression still dry and cynical. "I suppose you want these soon," I said, my voice just as even as before, waving the clipboard at her. 

"Actually, yeah," she said sheepishly. "I was hoping to do a total inventory check this afternoon, so I need a list of everything you've got in the shop. Plus, I think you've noticed that the month is almost up, so that always means we have to go over our cheques and balances to make sure we can cover all our expenses for July…." 

"Hilde," I said, handing the clipboard back to her, "I told you on Monday, I'm not going to be sticking around here much longer. Remember? I got a _new_ job. They've even leased out my apartment to someone else for next month already." 

"Yeah, I remember," she sighed, taking the clipboard back and hanging her head a little. I felt kind of bad holding out on her that I had gotten a job with Preventers, but Lady Une had put me on one of her top secret teams, and no one outside of the force was really supposed to know who was on it. "But…" she continued, hugging her clipboard close, "I was hoping we could go over this stuff together, just one last time. I mean, I know none of this matters for you since you'll be gone by Sunday, but I really need to get it done and it's tedious doing it alone…." 

I sighed too, reaching for the clipboard again and giving it another look-over. Much as I really didn't want to do all that work (it was boring and depressing), I still did feel really bad about ditching Hilde and dumping the garage and the whole salvage yard on her head right when things were going to start getting rushed. "I guess I could," I agreed half-heartedly as I stepped back to let her into my apartment. I closed the door behind her, glad that nobody had been out in the hall to see me looking the way I was. "For old time's sake, I suppose." 

"Ooh, thank you Duo!" she giggled happily, bouncing over to me and jumping up to grab me around the neck in a fierce hug, making me drop the clipboard. A violent flush coated my cheeks as I lost a grip on my towel, the top sliding down a little, the towel around my head coming somewhat loose. She noticed my unease and quickly leapt back. "Oops," she blushed. It was the girliest thing I had ever seen her do. "Sorry Duo." 

"S'okay," I muttered, readjusting both of my towels. I guess I shouldn't have made such a big deal about the towel in my hair and gone to ensure that my body towel didn't fall down, but strange as it sounds, my hair is a very intimate thing to me. Actually, since Maxwell Church, the only one who has ever seen me naked with hair unbound is Heero. It kind of meant a lot to me that he was the only one too, because it made Heero special… more special than he already was. "Let me go put some pants on," I told her as I retreated back down the hall towards my bedroom. "Wait in the kitchen." 

I heard her make some sort of noise of agreement, her footsteps pattering after me for a moment before branching off into the little kitchenette. I kept walking, down towards the bathroom door at the end of the hall, which sat adjacent to my bedroom door. Kicking the door closed behind me, I let my towels drop, glad to finally be free of all that confinement. I had already packed most of my stuff up into a pair of suitcases that sat near the closet, leaving only a few bare essentials that still needed to be taken care of before I moved down to Earth to take Une's job. 

I found a pair of loose old sweatpants and an old blue tee shirt that read _'Make Yourself'_. It took me about twenty minutes to get a brush through my still damp mess of hair, quick by my standards. Then I hurriedly braided my long chestnut brown locks, which was shining a darker umbre colour in its wet state, afraid that Hilde might suddenly burst into the room for some reason and see it falling free. 

Then I collapsed on the bed, burying my nose into the one pillow that remained there, trying hard to muffle the sobs that were choked in my throat. I couldn't explain it; I was just so depressed as of late, and not even Hilde's cheerful disposition could do much to relieve it. It had been Heero's _brilliant_ (I use the word sparingly) idea to pack me off with Hilde to help her start her salvage business. And while part of me was happy to do it, I have to say that guy could be _such_ an idiot sometimes! Dumbest smart person I've _ever_ met, I swear! He insisted that I deserved a chance to make the life he said I had always deserved. I had tried to explain that the life I wanted included him, but you know how he can be; once he gets an idea in his head, there's little to no chance of him letting go, so I had not much else to do other than agree. Sometimes I wonder what that jerk has gone off to do by himself, hoping to God that he was safe and well. 

Hilde had noticed how droopy I was ever since we got up here to L2. Of course I tried to be cheerful, and we've had our share of laughs and good times, but for some reason, it was so much harder to fake being happy for her than someone like say, Heero. Maybe it was because there was something else other than just mere friendship to fuel on my cheery attempts, or maybe it was the time, or maybe it's just harder to be around someone who is just genuine happy, instead of the great pretender. Even still, perhaps I had finally gone insane. I wasn't all too sure. All I can safely say is that whatever was wrong with my mask, Hilde noticed and confronted me on it. And when I couldn't talk to even _her_ about it, when I started to rave and scream and she had to physically drag me away from the wall I had been literally pounding my head into, she opted that I go to see someone who could help me climb out of the rut Heero and I had dug for ourselves. Hell and that was only the _first_ time I blew up at her. It only got worse. I think I remember a time when I threw something at her, something heavy and breakable that hit her and made her bleed. 

__

[It's not a breeze 'cause it blows hard.]

The shrink she got me to see didn't really help much either. He was pleasant enough, asked me all the right questions and I gave him all the right answers, however, nothing came out of those sessions. I was hollow and empty enough for even that stupid doctor to notice. I remember sitting outside his office on a cold wooden bench listening to Hilde and him talk about me in hushed voices right on the other side of his closed door. I recall hearing the doctor saying things about me being traumatized by some event in my life; I remembered Hilde said something about me being like to different people trapped in one body. I hated listening to them talk about me like I wasn't three feet away from their conversation, and that just depressed me more. Hilde noticed my increased sarcasm and dry humour, much more biting than it used to be, and though she laughed it off, I could tell it bothered her. I have to hand it to her though; when that doctor said that he thought I should perhaps spend some time in one of those insane asylums (he called it something else, but I know that's what he meant), she put her foot down. That was the last time I had to go see any shrink. 

But that still left her with the problem of me. Doctors and their medications didn't help and neither did the cheerful air she continued to possess around me. She knew I wasn't the same as I used to be. Though I was far from being perfect back during the war, at least then I had seemed a little more sociable. Now I was just extremely moody and terribly lonely without my other half. Damn that Heero Yuy sometimes! Damn him and his stupid know-it-all attitude!

__

[Yes, and it wants me to discard  
The humanity I know,  
Watch the warmth blow away.]

Like an alarm clock ringing in the middle of a meaningful dream, the sound of the telephone ringing drew me from my vacant dreaming. I let it go, knowing that Hilde was at home enough to just pick it up herself. Sure enough, the dull tones of the telephone ceased and I heard Hilde say some words of greeting, followed by a long pause and a muted "Oh". It wasn't a good "Oh". Definitely a bad sign. 

Needless to say, the sound of Hilde's footsteps filled the hall and before I knew it, she was knocking on my door. "Duo," she called, her voice sounding almost choked, "Duo, come get the phone. It's for you." 

"Tell 'em I'm not home," I moaned into my pillow. I was feeling a little sleepy and my recent thoughts about all the troubles that I'd had since the war had done nothing but increase that feeling. 

"I just told him that I was going to get you," she answered, rapping the door again. 

"Then I'm sick," was all I could think of to say. Anything to get out of having to stand up and drag my lazy ass down the hall to the phone and then _talk_. I didn't think I could even put any cheer in my godforsaken _voice_, much less my demeanor. It would be even worse if the call turned out to be from someone I knew personally; they would know right off the bat that something was wrong and I really didn't want to have to worry them about Heero and I more than they already were. I can say right now that Trowa looked like he was going to rip off Heero's fingers one by one and force-feed them to him when he heard about this whole 'getting a life experiment'.

"If I told him that, I'd be _lying_, Mister Honesty." There was a brief gap in her words before she added, as if to provoke me, though all it did was elicit a moan from me. "Besides, it's Wufei. I think you should maybe talk to him." 

"Wonderful," I groaned sarcastically. "_Just_ the person I wanted to talk to." I was in no mood to hear Wufei's overzealous rambling on whatever he had to complain about. No doubt he had probably found about Une wanting to hire me and wanted to give me the "No Shenanigans Speech". 

"Duo," her voice was suddenly rough. She was turning the doorknob and busting in, her movements firmer now, more like the OZ soldier she used to be than the bubbly little sister I had come to know. "Duo, get up," she ordered as she entered the room, walking over to the bed and snapping the pillow out from under my head. I still didn't move. "Duo, you will take this call. You _have_ to hear what _Preventer_ Chang has to say." 

That was when I figured out she was serious and whatever Wufei had to say was going to be more business in nature than a friendly (well, as friendly as Wu-cakes can get) house call. If he was being so formal, there had to be something up. I rolled out of bed (literally), picked my aching body of the floor and slumped to the kitchen, muttering about whatever Wufei had to say being damn bloody important. 

"Maxwell here," I said into the phone tiredly, thankfully sitting down at the little fold-up card table I had left in the middle of the kitchen to suffice until the move. Hilde came into the kitchen soon after, practically tripping over the long curly phone cord that trailed across the kitchen floor the handset in my hand. 

"Duo," he said, his voice sounded sincerely grave. I might throw in that when Preventer _Chang Wufei_ starts addressing you by your first name, you _know_ that there is something severely up. It's not everyday Wufei goes out of his way to make you feel at ease unless whatever he has to say is going to be worse than his usual stiff formality. "We have a… situation... all of us at Preventers think you should know about, even though you're not officially joining us until next week." 

"Oh yeah?" I tried to sound mildly intrigued, wondering what it was that he was playing at. I looked up at Hilde, who was now sitting across from me at the table, her hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast and looking almost solemn. I turned my head from the strange sight of the normally cheerful girl acting so gloomy, though my actual eyes had trouble leaving her. "What kind of 'situation' do you mean?" 

"Duo, I'm going to be frank and I'm going to be honest," Wufei said. Was it just me or did he sound kind of choked and upset too? The world was going mad and I somehow knew it. 

"Yeah, keep going Wu-babe," I said, noting that he didn't make any comment to the usually annoying nickname. "I'm listening." 

"Yuy's been injured," he said, blunt just as he promised he would be, though I could still detect that saddened air about his words as he spoke. "Seriously injured," he added. "He's unconscious and in intensive care." 

__

[So don't let the world bring you down.]

"He's _WHAT_?" I shrieked into the mouthpiece. Hilde visibly winced at the volume of my voice. I could tell that there was still more to this story than what Wufei had just told me, so I prodded him for more. "How did this happen? Who did this to him?" 

"It was…. He…." Wufei seemed unsure of how to proceed from there. I could feel my world crumbling around me. Heero had been hurt? How? Why? When? I found myself wishing I could have been with him; perhaps I could have been able to prevent whatever had happened to him. Or maybe if I could trade, if I could be the one in the hospital, not him. God, this did _not_ happen. Heero Yuy did _not_ get put in intensive care for injuries! 

"He _what_, Wufei?" I demanded impatiently, pounding the tabletop fiercely, causing Hilde to jump. 

"He… did it to himself," my Chinese friend whispered so softly I had to strain myself to hear. 

__

[Not everyone here is sad, fucked up and cold!]

"Oh my God," I hissed, my eyes wide. Hilde obviously knew what I had just heard because she only hung her head lower. "Do you know anything else…? Why…?" 

"No, we don't know why exactly," Wufei answered gravely. "We got a call into Preventers about six this morning from the hospital. They were looking for any relations of a Mister Heero Yuy, who had been brought to their facilities in the middle of last night. Apparently he's enrolled in school; his roommate was the one who found him lying in their bathroom in a puddle of his own blood. He'd broken the mirror and used to it cut himself. We don't really know much more than that." 

"How could he do that?" I was beyond shocked. I never thought that Heero would try to kill himself since that whole incident with Wing and its self-destruct device. "Wufei, I have to go to Earth!" I cried desperately into the phone. "You guys have to let me see him! I have to be with him! What if something else happens!? Oh God, 'Fei, I _have_ to go!" 

"I know, Duo, I know," he said in the most sympathetic voice I had ever heard him use towards me. I'd been able to put together from little tidbits that I'd gathered here and there that he'd lost his first love about a year before the war, which was why he was so obsessed with that justice thing. I guess he didn't want see a friend go through the same pain he had too. I secretly appreciated the gesture. "We can try and get you there, but I don't exactly know if it'll be as easy as you'd expect. After all, with your new position with us and all… well… we can't exactly have you wandering around in broad daylight flashing a Preventers badge but…."

"But what, 'Fei?"

"But we'll try our damndest," he promised. Suddenly losing the sad air, he returned to Agent Chang and gave me further instructions. "We'll get you a shuttle flight that leaves L2 tonight, if you're ready. You can be in to see him by tomorrow night." 

"I'm ready _now_! I'll do whatever it takes," I insisted, my voice desperate as I nervously twisted the phone cord around my index finger. "Just get me there," I added softly. 

"Good," he said almost curtly. "Give your alias at the spaceport and they'll have your ticket waiting for you. We'll take it from there when you get to Earth." 

He hung up before I had a chance to say anything else, which was fine, because quite frankly, I didn't know what else there was that _could_ be said. I held the phone dumbly against my ear for a few seconds before I stood and returned it to the cradle. Turning around, I saw Hilde, still sitting at the table, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I have to go earlier than I planned," I said as gently as I could, trying to shrug it off with a toss of my shoulders and a small grin. 

She looked up at me and tried to smile too as she nodded. "I know." 

__

[Remember why you came and while you're alive,  
Experience the warmth before you grow… old….]

Preventers got me all the way from space down to this little nondescript town in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't surprised in the least that this was the place Heero had chosen to hide himself away. It was this little place near the mountains where no one would visit if they had to, the main establishment being the huge school that sprawled at the edge of the town's limits. I asked my way around until I found the hospital, a rather small facility that was a little more than a walk-in clinic on the third floor of a tenant building. 

I walked into the lobby of the building, pulling off my baseball cap, braid tumbling down my back from its confines beneath the hat as I did so. I re-coiled my braid against the back of my scalp and replaced the hat overtop of it while I waited for the elevator. The stupid thing didn't do much to hide my hair, but it at least made me less distinguishable than that mane of hair usually did. I had promised Wufei I would keep my name on the down low, even from Heero. It hurt me to think that I wouldn't be able to even let him know I was there, but a deal is a deal and if I wanted that position with Preventers, I had to be like a fucking ghost. 

The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor. It was an ancient looking affair with an extremely small car and one of those ornate gated doors you had to pull open and closed yourself. I was hardly aware as the rattling noise of the gate being pulled back echoed throughout the empty lobby and a strawberry blonde kid in a nice uniform looking coat and tie stepped off the lift and stood aside, politely holding the door open for me. "Thanks," I said automatically as I stepped onto the lift and pulled the gate closed, pressing the little golden button under the number '3'. I smiled in farewell to him as the elevator begin to rise upwards towards my destination. 

I found myself getting off on a white and sterile floor, heading down the empty hallway to the one doorway at its end. Beyond that was an empty little waiting room equipped with only a few chairs and a receptionist's desk, behind which sat a young bored looking nurse. I stepped quickly over in her direction and asked her if I could see Heero. 

"Visiting hours are over, Sir," she said, blowing a little bubble of pink gum between her lips before smacking it back into her mouth and chewing it loudly. 

"I don't give a shit," I growled dangerously, not in the mood to argue about it. I didn't care what they said; I would see Heero if it killed me. If she had known any of the signs that Shinigami was itching to come out and play, she would have realized that it would have been in her best interest to just let me back right then. "I want to see Heero Yuy, and I want to see him now." 

"Sorry, rules is rules," she answered, not even bothering to look up at me this time as she blew another loud smacking bubble. 

I leaned over the desk and ripped the crossword puzzle she was working on out of her hands and threw it absently over my shoulder. "Look missy," I said in a voice that was so calm, it was apparent that I was ready to do something completely out of control. "I've been on a shuttle from L2 for a day, spent a hellish amount of time trying to _find_ this hole in the wall town and _now_ you tell me I can't see him? I don't think so. So let me tell you what you're gonna do: you're gonna make a little 'exception' to the rules or else my good friend Rage will be the one to do it for you." 

"Room 11," she whispered meekly, obviously able to detect the black fire smoldering in my eyes. "Don't make a fuss; we don't want him to wake up. He's the one who's crazy." 

I grinned at her as she gave me the information, my expression smug. I let go of her white collar and stood up straight, touching the bill of my baseball cap in jovial thanks as I let myself back into the patient's ward. As I walked by all the doors, looking for number 11, I wondered to myself what she had meant when she said that he was crazy. Sure, I knew that something inside of Heero must have snapped to make him do what he had, but there must have been something that had occurred here at the hospital to make them so wary. Maybe that roommate Wufei had mentioned has said something to them? I hoped not; some nutcase kid wouldn't understand anything Heero did. Not very many people do. 

Room 11 was around the corner and off in its own little world. I opened the door and slid inside, closing the door quietly behind me. Then I turned around to face the bed, nearly fainted dead away when I finally laid eyes upon him. 

__

[So do you think I should adhere  
To that pressing new frontier?]

I slowly moved over towards the bed and sat down on a small wooden stool that sat nearby the small cot. A glass of water and a bottle of sleeping drugs sat on the table near the bed, a small bunch of carnations dunked in a vase nearby. He was lying in the bed nearby, clad in only a loose gray hospital gown. My eyes were riveted to his face, so pale and lifeless, despite the damp sheen on his lips that sparkled in the ethereal sunlight wafting through the window. I could see his cheekbones jutting prominently on his face, dark circles painted beneath his eyes. His breathing was soft and slightly irregular, the light panting dotted with a heavy pained gasp every now and then. His upturned arms were wrapped tightly from wrist to mid-arm with blood caked gauze, both his hands also bound tightly with the sterile cloth. The snaking clear cord of an IV drip trailed ominously from beneath the bandages on his right arm to the pouch hanging lazily over his bed, complimented by the slightly reassuring sound of a nearby heart monitor's steady beep. 

They had strapped him down to the small metal-framed hospital cot, his arms tied to the side rails with leather bonds, legs and torso held down with similar belts. He had probably panicked and gotten wild when he woke up and found himself there, forcing them to use restraints. It sickly reminded me of that time I saved him from that OZ facility where they had him bound for a similar reason. The fact that he had not been able to break free proved that he must have been extremely weak, especially if a few simple narcotics were able to knock him out and keep him sleeping so peacefully there. 

"Hey there, angel," I whispered affectionately as I tried to brush a spike of his messy dark hair from his eyes, only to watch it fall back in its disorderly place. His hair felt limp and dead to touch, not the usual soft wispy quality I remembered it being the last time I had lost my fingers in that dark mess. "You really fucked us over big time, didn't you, fella?" 

Heero slumbered on in that state of restless peace. I could tell he was more than a little weak and drained, sure that whatever drugs they were pouring down his throat weren't helping him too much either. Turning to the bedside table again, I found a clipboard with a packet of papers that reduced Heero to nothing more than a couple scribbled words on a regimented form. "Four slashes to the lower right arm, six to the lower left, gashes on both palms," I read quietly to myself, leafing through the reports, my eyes flicking up to survey his slumbering form every now and then. "Cause: self-inflicted; Mental State: unstable—horse shit! Mentally unstable my ass! —Significant blood loss, yadda, yadda, yadda…." I got sick of reading their 'analysis' of what they thought they knew about Heero and tossed the clipboard aside. "They don't get it, do they, angel?" I said sadly to his closed eyes, wishing sorely that I could see him wake up, becoming gloomier to know that I couldn't. "They tie you up like a wild animal their afraid of." I reached down to loosen his bonds enough so that he could wriggle free when he awoke. "It's like tying down a bird so it can't be free." 

__

[And leave in my wake a trail of fear?]

He made a low groaning noise in his sleep, which sent my eyes racing to look at his; they remained tired and closed, painted with the dark purplish blue colour of someone who had not slept enough in months. His lips stirred somewhat, puckering a little as his eyebrow twitched a bit. Seeing that he was waking, I panicked a little and hastily jumped to my feet. I did not want to leave him (figuring I would probably have trouble getting past that cranky receptionist again), but I knew I could not allow him to know I was there. For starters, I was pretty sure he'd be pissed if he found out I had come crying to him like I couldn't hack it on my own. One thing someone learns after spending a lot of quality time with Heero Yuy is that when he says something, you jump right on it or he'll knock you down and kick you until your bleeding and broken. I didn't want to have to see him angry with me, especially in this situation. Another thing was that if he got the idea that I had come down here to pity him, he'd split my lip in two. He hates pity like the goddamned plague. 

Being the expert sneak thief I am, I quickly noted that the ceiling tiles above me were the sort that could be lifted and moved out of the way. Ceilings like that usually lead the way to an empty crawl space full of electrical wiring and all that jazz, perfect for hiding out in. With a good leap, I managed to knock one of the tiles out of the way and with another, I flung my arms up and inside, getting a good amount of support on the topside of the ceiling to hoisted myself up with that extra leverage. I replaced the tile after I had gone through, finding the space I was in was so low I was forced to crawl around on my belly like a slug. I kept my mouth shut about this little inconvenience, as it was good enough to keep me hidden. I eventually wriggled my way over to a grating in the ceiling and spied down into the room through the slated grille. 

Heero's eyes fluttered open, illuminated with a dull blue that had this nostalgic aura that seemed somehow extremely frightening to me. God, his eyes were always so intense; despite that uncanny saddened air that clouded them, they still remained such a brilliant shade of Prussian blue that the rest of the room seemed bland and nothing more than a jumbled smear of white and gray. His cobalt irises danced around the room, surveying the place like he knew there was something out of joint. Unconsciously, I held my breath, worried he might hear me, knowing that Mister Perfect Soldier's ears were better than a cat's on the blackest night of the year. 

Seeming to realize that he was no longer prisoner to the bed, he sat up and flexed his knees, lifting his arms and holding them in front of him as he blankly stared at the bandages mummifying his arms, the shoulder of his gown slipping down as he moved. I wondered if he understood the weight of what he had done. Did he know that killing himself would kill me? He's such and idiot sometimes… such an idiot that I can't help but adore him. 

In a move that made me want to jump out and beat him, he pulled the IV out of his arm with barely a wince and disconnected himself from all the other machinery in the room, raising his arms for scrutiny once more as soon as this was finished. He swung his bare slender legs over the side of the bed, still staring blindly at his arms. I think it was finally just registering with him what kind of mess he had made of himself. He at last let them drop to his sides with a tired heave of air from his lungs. I was looking directly down at the top of his head, the sunlight from the window streaked in large muted squares of yellow upon his messy hair. It made him look almost surreal, and I found that if I squinted my eyes just right, the light created the illusion of angel's wings rising from his shoulder blades. 

I watched as he stood and lethargically moved over towards the clipboard I had tossed so carelessly on the floor. He slowly stooped to pick it up and replaced it on the bedside table exactly as I had found it. Though the precise neat-freak gesture had been an extremely Heero thing to do, the exhaustion with which he moved was extremely bothersome to me. Even during the war, when Heero had something wrong with him from a little fever to a broken leg, he would cover it up and operate on the usual 110% he always did. But now he seemed tired and it looked like it almost hurt him to move. I hope that the teardrop that just leaked from my eye didn't land on him…. 

__

[Or should I hold my head up high  
And throw a wrench in spokes by  
Leaving the air behind me clear?]

Suddenly the door burst open and a nurse popped in long enough to let out a low gasp before turning around and frantically yelling most unprofessionally down the corridor, "Docto-o-o-or! He's up! And somehow he's out of bed!" I knew immediately from that irritating voice that it was that stupid girl who had been popping her gum so damn loud at the front desk when I had walked in earlier. 

The patter of feet rushing down the hall filled the air and a doctor with greasy brown hair burst past the nurse, knocking her aside in a most satisfying manner. "Mister Yuy! You're awake!" he gasped, sounding a little shocked to see Heero standing there in the middle of the room. I don't know why he was so worked up; I could tell by that deadened look in Heero eye that he was just staring blankly at him and would not do anything to lash out. Usually when Heero was going to kick some ass, he got this look in his eye that gave away what he was going to do. 

Heero just hung his head almost sadly, staring down at his bare feet, which were positioned in an odd pigeon-toed fashion, not very Heero-like. "I was scared," he whispered quietly, his voice so soft I had to press my ear to the grating to even have the slightest hope of listening in. "I had a dream that I was alone, that even the people who once cared ran away."

"Did that wake you up?" the doctor asked, flinging an arm around Heero and slowly guiding him back to the bed, his voice gentler than it had been before. I smiled that the man was showing Heero the kindness that he needed, though I was soon distraught that Heero was starting to have nightmares again. The last time I remember either of us having a nightmare was maybe two months after we first started sleeping together. I wondered if Heero's newfound unrest had to do with my absence or the overdoses of drugs they were giving him to keep him sedate.

"Yeah," Heero mumbled as he sat down at the foot of the bed, messing with the hem of his generic white hospital wear. "Can I have a glass of water?" he whispered softly, not looking up to meet the doctor's eye. 

"Go get him some water," the doctor commanded that stupid vulture nurse, who had been hawking the doorway that entire time. Thankfully, she flounced off to do her task and was gone for a good while. 

"How long was I sleeping?" he asked with a heavy sigh, like it was almost a pain to ask it. 

"Oh, maybe a day or so," the doctor shrugged, sitting down on the stool I had been using before. "It's typical for someone who's been through so much." 

Heero's face fell and became darker at this. I could tell he was brooding, even from my far-off standpoint. That stupid quack might not have been able to tell, but for someone who has Heero's body language down to an exact science, it was pretty plain to tell that these things bothered him. "If I had it my way, I wouldn't have to go through so much," he grumbled irately to himself. Now _that_ comment bothered _me_!

__

[So don't let the world bring you down.]

"You're still tired," the doctor said to Heero, his tone rather resolute. As he spoke, that bimbo nurse came back with Heero's water and wordlessly handed the cup to the doctor, who in turn gave it to Heero. "You should try and go back to sleep, Mister Yuy," the doctor said firmly as he watched Heero indulge in a long drink from the cup, taking large visible swallows that appeared in his throat as he did so. 

"Did anyone come to visit?" Heero asked, a little trace of hopeful intone in his speech as he handed the glass back to the doctor. 

The doctor placed the cup on the bedside table and answered the question. "Just your friend from school," he said with a warm smile. "He comes by almost all the time." 

I nearly fell through the ceiling and beat the crap out of that stupid receptionist nurse who was still lingering in the room when she opened her big fat yap. "There was this other guy who came in looking for you," she drawled slowly. Heero's eyes were pinned to her, waiting for her to go on. "Had a bad attitude and a wicked grin. The jerk practically threatened me to let him back, even though visiting hours were through." 

"What!?" the doctor sounded alarmed. "Did anything happen?" 

Heero, however, made no such revelations of any fear and continued his straightforward military-style interrogation. "What did this person look like?" he asked calmly, propping himself up on the flat pillows that lay at the top of his bed. "Did he have long hair? Or maybe you saw his eyes? Tell me, please!" 

"Didn't get a good look at his eyes," the woman shrugged. She was smacking her stupid gum again. I _hate_ people who chew their gum loud! "He was wearing this black baseball hat that covered his eyes. And maybe he had long hair. I dunno. He was wearing that hat." 

"Oh," he responded, settling back into the cushions and sinking lower into the mattress. "He didn't… tell you his name? Nothing like that?" 

"Nope. Just, 'I want to see Heero Yuy… _NOW_!' Then he threatened me and I was kind of freaked out so…" 

"Never mind then. I just thought it might have been… an old…." Heero cut her off softly with a wave of his hand, trailing off distractedly as his eyes clouded over, becoming somewhat droopy as he turned his head into the pillow, murmuring, "I'm tired…. So tired…. I think I'll just…." He was slowly nodding off to sleep, his words becoming lower and more incoherent and before long, he was peacefully slumbering again. 

__

[Not everyone here is sad, fucked up and cold!]

"He's not well. I'm thinking we might need to look into extended care for him once his body heals," the doctor murmured quietly to the nurse across Heero's sleeping form as she went to fix the IV back into Heero's arm. It was pissing me off that they could just stand there and talk about my poor Heero like he wasn't even in the room! Granted he was sleeping, but they made it seem like he wasn't even human. That bothered me beyond all belief—I have no time for people who have that horrible misconception that Heero is not human. He's actually more human and childlike than I had ever dreamed he could be. 

"He's scary sometimes," the nurse added, rubbing a sterilized cotton ball over a patch of flesh on Heero's arm. "And that guy who was his friend was just as bad. Someone should watch him all the time." 

"When his roommate from school comes back to visit tomorrow," the doctor said, watching as the nurse slid the slim hollow needle set on the end of the IV tube into Heero's flesh. "We'll see if he can spend the night here to make sure he doesn't do anything more to himself."

"Sure thing, doc," the nurse answered in a disgustingly chipper voice as she finished her job and started to walk out of the room with the doctor, still discussing Heero in muted tones as they went. "We don't want him getting out of control and trying to do himself in _again_. He's got scars all over him as it is…." 

The second the door closed behind the pair, I ripped one of the ceiling tiles out of the way and dropped back down into the room. I took the time to clamber onto the stool in order to replace the tile I had disturbed before plopping down on the four-legged seat, sloppily resting my elbows on my parted knees. "Sleep, sleep," I said slowly, watching as Heero's chest rose and fell. "Sleep is all you do. You used to hate napping just for the hell of it. But look at you now, just dozing all the time. I'm not stupid Heero; I know you're just trying to find away to pass the days away without really living through them." 

I eventually removed my hat and dropped it to the floor, my braid swinging down the length of my back where it belonged. Then I dragged the stool as close to the bed as I could and spent the night with my head resting on his hard stomach as it gently rose and fell with each laboured breath, in and out of sleep. 

[Remember why you came and while you're alive,  
Experience the warmth before you grow… old….]

I woke late morning the next day to the sound an opening door and the abrupt and disgruntled words, "Who the hell are you?" 

I snapped up, realizing that I was still dozing on Heero's chest. Blinking in the blinding sunlight, I stole a glance at Heero, who had moved scantly an inch during the course of the night and still lay there as he had been before, sickly, wan and asleep. Then I turned my attentions to the speaker in the doorway. I found myself staring at the blonde kid I had seen on the elevator the day before. He was still in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorknob tightly as he frowned at me suspiciously. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked dubiously, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

"I came to visit Heero," I said with a roll of my eyes, wondering what the hell _else_ I could have possibly been there for. On a second thought, I decided not to go into it. "I was told that he had gotten his ass landed in the hospital and I had to make sure he was still… okay…."

"He's not, if you couldn't tell," he said flatly, crossing his arms over his stiff uniform coat, the same I had seen him wearing the day before. 

"Like you could ever understand it," I muttered darkly, knowing full well that this guy had to be a civilian who had no idea _what_ the hell it was like to be either one of us. Quite frankly, I don't really blame Heero for wanting to off himself. I could justify the feelings, but I couldn't help but remind myself that I was a selfish bastard who refused to give him up to Shinigami just yet. "They pretend like they get it but no one ever understands it. If they did, it wouldn't have turned out like this." 

"What would you know about what Heero's been through!" the guy asked pretentiously, stamping his foot a little. 

I let out a low private chuckle, staring at the floor with a wicked grin on my face as I stood up and faced him, slowly raising my eyes to meet his and quite pleased to see his pupils dilate when he took on the heat rimming my eyes. "What would I know, you ask?" I said, sounding quite amused. "Oh believe me, _sir_, I know what it's like."

"Right, so if you know so much, let's hear it," he said smugly, taking a few daring steps forward. 

I closed my eyes as I opened my mouth, resting my hand on Heero's stomach, feeling the hard muscles contort strangely with his uneven breath. "I know what it feels like to live your life, unsure of what's real and what's not, feeling more alive in your dreams than when you're awake, like your senses lie to you and you're always alone. Believe me," I said, opening my eyes once more, my fingers still reaching to make sure Heero was still there, "I know what it's like to stand on the wrong side of the looking glass, outside looking in. I know what it's like to be lost in Wonderland perpetually." 

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes wide with something I would drop into the category of 'fear'. 

I laughed again, finding this game fun. He was a good sport to play with. "I am… no one…. Just a shadow, a face without a name."

"A shadow?" Now he was definitely scared of me. I could see him already screaming for the nurses. 

"Heero's shadow, to be more exact," I added mysteriously. "I am his darkness that follows in the wake of his light. See?" I gently stroked Heero's forehead, brushing his thick bangs across the white flesh and attempting to tuck them behind his small ears. "I followed him yet again." 

He was staring at me like I was some kind of sick stalker. Can I say right now that I refuse to allow myself to be put in the same category as Miss Relena Peacecraft? Granted, she's been getting a little better now that she's finally figured out that it was time to friggin' grow up and get over the fact that Heero wasn't going to give her just what she wanted when she wanted it. I think it was kind of good for her in the long run that Heero was like "Fuck you!" every time she tried to bend him to be the pretty little housetrained pup she wanted my wild wolf to be. I was going to make some wry comment about him not knowing the _true_ meaning of 'stalker' when I noticed Heero starting to grow restless again. 

"Shh!" I hissed, mashing my forefinger against my lips as I watched the sleeping boy more carefully, unsure if he was just dreaming or on the verge of waking up again. Heero let out a quiet little moan and tossed his head to the side with a slight whimpering noise before falling into a silent dreamless sleep again. "I can't let him… see me…." I whispered sadly to no one in particular. 

__

[So don't let the world bring you down!]

"Why not?" the kid ventured a question, a bold move to say the least as I could tell he was ready to piss his pants standing there watching me look at Heero so sadly. "Isn't Heero your friend? I bet it would make him feel better to know that someone else besides boring old me came by...." 

"He would be… unhappy… to see me again, I think," I said dejectedly, not even really believing the words myself as I said them. Then again, one could never be too sure with Heero Yuy. A part of me felt that he truly would be happy to see me again and would welcome me readily, but another part feared that he would be ready to beat me senseless over the head for being unable to cut it on my own. Even if I had come just to see if he was well, it was hard to tell how he would read things sometimes. While his mind was far deeper and more complex than anyone could ever dream to know, he also had the most explosive and angry temper known to mankind left to protect the treasures of said mind. I knew firsthand what it could be like to suffer the wild wrath of Heero Yuy. 

"Oh I don't think so…." the boy cocked his head to the side. I noted that he had managed to sneak across the floor from the door to the foot of Heero's bed and now stood there, leaning on the metal rail that rose a few inches over the mattress. 

"No, no," I said, shaking my head in a fashion that sent my braid whipping back and forth across my back like a pendulum on a whip. "You don't know him… not like… not like I do…. No one knows him like I do… because…." 

__

[Not everyone here is sad, fucked up and cold!]

"Because?" he prodded at my hesitation, looking extremely impatient. I bet he thought that I was trying to yank his chain or something; little did he know that this was all very far from a joke. 

"…Because we're the same," I finally whispered softly, stroking Heero's forehead again, fingers slipping down the gently slope of his little nose and softly stroked his plush lower lip. "Look, he hurt himself and he hurt me too." 

He clenched his fists unconsciously at his sides, staring down at his generic black loafers like he was trying to figure out what he should do next. I think he was a little annoyed at my ambiguity, frightened by my sudden appearance and intrigued by my amazing ability to read Heero's feelings off his sleeping face like a book. He at last looked up again, running a stray hand through his strawberry blond hair and said, "How do you know this?"

I smiled almost sadly, flashes of my life exploding through my memory in less than an instant. "Closer than most to him," I explained, remembering fondly how we used to be joined at the hip. I met the stranger's eyes, trying hard to make my own purple irises seem solid and not soaked by threatening tears. "What am I 'sposed to do?" 

Silence reigned between us for some time. He dared to step around the bed, nearer to me, sitting down on the stool that stood empty beside me. I wasn't aware of his nearing presence until he reached up and grabbed my hand, tugging me downward onto my knees. "Don't show any remorse for your love…. You do… love him… right?" 

__

[Remember why you came and while you're alive….]

I looked up at the boy and then glanced over at the still dormant Heero. "I always wanted to be like him," I said softly, settling back on my calves, hands lying with sweaty palms down upon my thighs. "It was like there was a… a star born inside of him; a warm star that I wanted so badly to feel inside myself. And somehow, I got close to him. I… I fell in love with him… and then… then I felt it… that warm star, right here." I laid a hand gingerly on my breast, feeling the erratic twitching of my heart buried deep inside. "He told me once," I whispered, my eyes settled upon the spindled fingers laying upon my chest, "that he was looking for the same thing inside of me, that he wanted someone who was forever warm because he was so cold, that he wished he could be like me." 

"Maybe I… I think I do see," the boy mumbled, gazing at Heero with a new kind of light in his eyes. I think this kid was able to see in me what Heero had tried to hide. My feelings were more apparent that Heero's, but Heero's sadness and steel was more obvious than mine was. We were the same person introverted in different bodies. He was heaven's fallen angel and I was hell's risen devil. 

"Maybe," I assented quietly. 

"Why are you hiding from him?" the boy asked abruptly, jarring the somber mood of the room. 

I quickly stood, straightening out my wrinkled shirt and jacket as I did so. "I always hide," I answered, clearing my throat. "He'll find me when he's ready," I amended when I saw the strange expression painted upon my companion's face. "He always could." 

"Oh," was the grave reply, the misty sunlight swirling around the room managing to dose his previous adamant exclamation. 

"I think I need to go," I said with a fleeting glance at Heero's gaunt features. I slid my hand under my jacket, groping for the hidden inside pocket that contained a small white envelope I had meant to leave on Heero's bedside before I left for good. Wufei wanted me to check in at the Preventers Headquarters in New York City the next day; I had already stayed longer than I had meant to anyway. I quickly brushed past the boy, discreetly dropping the weighty little pouch into his lap as I passed, not daring to chance another look at Heero's wan form for fear I might not be able to leave again. 

__

[Experience the warmth before you grow… old…]

As I peered quickly over my shoulder at the confused blonde sitting on the stool holding the envelope up as if he was unsure what it was I said in a low quick voice, "Please see he gets it." With that, I closed the door, pausing to lean against the cheap white board with a sigh the second it was closed behind me. Gathering my wits, I pushed myself forward and left the small medical faculty as brusquely as I could, stepping quickly onto the elevator and pulling the frilly wrought iron gate closed over my last connection with Heero for a long time. I sighed as I pulled the plain inside gate of the elevator closed, feeling completely empty and full of doubt and remorse. And knowing that I was making the wrong choice, I pushed the button for the ground floor.

__

[Before you grow… old…  
Where did it go?  
Where did it… go?]

() (o) ()

****

A/N – One more chapter! Come on, you know it ends up happy if you've read the other story… There you go! Incentive! Read _Coming Through the Rye_ and review! Ah! Go on! 


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